Shawn Meets His Match
by Project Deathstar
Summary: When a British buisness man goes missing in Santa Barbara, Mycroft puts Sherlock and John on the case. However, the SBPD puts Psych on the case as well. What will happen when the world's two best detectives come face to face?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Off to Santa Barbara

John Watson was sitting peacefully on the couch at 21 Baker Street, finishing his blog about his and Sherlock's most recent escapade, when said flatmate rushed into the room with a manic look in his eye.

"Where are they?" he asked hurriedly.

John sighed. Not this again.

"Sherlock, do we really need to go through this every time you don't have a case?"

"That depends. Where. Are. My. Cigarettes."

"I threw them out," John said without looking up from the laptop.

"Your lying," Sherlock said with triumph. "You hid them somewhere new, I already checked the mantlepiece, and they weren't there."

"I'm not telling you where they are," affirmed John.

Sherlock paced around the flat, his hand over his mouth.

"Do we have a new case yet?"

"No."

Sherlock groaned. "I'm so bored."

"Why don't you do something productive like go to the park or read?" John suggested.

"The park?" Sherlock scoffed. "What does the park have to offer? Too calm, nothing happens. Unless a kidnapping has occured there. _Has_ a kidnapping occured at the park?

"No."

Sherlock groaned again. Just then, Mrs. Hudson, the landlady, came through the door.

"Sherlock, your brother Mycroft is here."

"Oh joy," Sherlock said sarcastically. "He's probably going to ask us to investigate some bureaucratic nonsense."

Just as he said that, Mycroft came through the door and nodded at Mrs. Hudson, who took that as her cue to leave.

"Hello, brother. John," Mycroft greeted.

"Mycroft," John greeted.

Sherlock ignored his brother and walked over to the window. He picked up his violin and started plucking the strings.

"We're not interested in investigating a political scandal Mycroft, so I suggest you go have your daily tea party at Buckingham Palace." Sherlock dismissed as he started to play the violin.

Mycroft gave a forced smile. "Oh, I believe you'll find this case quite interesting, brother. You see, a prominent British buisness mogul named Robert Anderson went to a meeting in Santa Barbara, California-"

"I don't believe this has anything to do with your job, so why the interest?" Sherlock interupted.

"I was getting to that," Mycroft continued. "Anyway, Mr. Anderson's company is supposed to be involved in a joint project with the American SecuriCorp to come up with an advanced defense system for British and American bases set up in the Middle East."

"I remember hearing about something like that while in Afghanistan," John said, looking up from the laptop. "They're finally getting around to that?"

"They were, until Robert Anderson went missing a day ago."

Sherlock continued to play the violin.

"Are the local police doing anything about it?" asked John.

"Yes, but so far they have no leads as to where he is, even after they brought aboard their so-called _psychic_," Mycroft replied, placing emphasis on the last word.

Sherlock abruptly stopped playing his instrument and immediately turned to his brother.

"Psychic?" he asked curiously.

"Yes, the Santa Barbara Police Department frequently employ a self proclaimed 'psychic detective' to help them solve crimes."

"What's the man's name?" asked John while typing on his laptop.

"I believe it's Shawn Spencer," Mycroft answered. "Why?"

"Because someone sent us a link about five days ago to a Santa Barbara newspaper detailing a case he solved," John said while turning the laptop for the Holmes brothers to see. "They thought we would find it interesting."

Sherlock let his hand hover over the mouse pad as he read the headline:

**Psychic Recovers Stolen Diamond**

The picture below the headline depicted a spiky haired man holding a giant diamond in a over the top fashion, while a bald black man simply stared at him in disbelief.

"The funny thing is that his methods sound quite similar to your own," said John.

As Sherlock continued to read the article, his mouth formed into a mischevious smile.

"Fascinating," he breathed. "I must simply meet this fellow!"

Sherlock jumped up abruptly and practically skipped to his room.

"Pack your things, John!" he shouted. "We're off to California!"

"So you'll be taking the case?" Mycroft called.

"Of course, dear brother! This is more exciting than that triple homicide we solved a week ago!"

John looked up at Mycroft. "You might want to grant him diplomatic immunity just to be safe."

Mycroft sighed. "I could never agree with you more, dear boy."

**A/N: I decided to set this fic before The Reinenbach Fall and in the middle of Psych season 6. I know there are Psych/Sherlock crossovers out there, but I haven't found one that features a rivalry between Shawn and Sherlock, which is what this fic will primarily focus on. If this chapter gets good reviews, I'll try to focus on it as much as Don't Knock It Till You Try It, my Kingdom Hearts fic (which I hope you look up and read as well, the more the merrier) :)**

**Please Read and Review to let me know what you think**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Like Looking in a Jaded Mirror

_Two days later_

It was a sunny morning in Santa Barbara, and two men, one white, with spiky brown hair and casually dressed in a shortsleeve button-up shirt with jeans, and the other black, bald and in a well dressed suit we walking down the boardwalk. Both of them were eating local Jap Dogs as they discussed their most recent case.

"Alright Gus, what do we know so far?"

"Jap Dogs are one of the best inventions known to man?"

"True, but what else?"

Shawn took a bite from a Jap Dog while Gus scrunched his face in thought as they walked down the dock.

"There was no sign of a struggle,"

"Mmhm,"

"There wasn't a ransom note,"

"Go on..."

"And the flashdrive containing the defense plans was left undisturbed on the counter," Gus finished.

"Exactly! That's the only reason anyone would kidnap Anderson, so why leave behind the plans when they were in plain sight?"

"Maybe they were in a hurry and didn't get a good look at the counter?"

"Gus, no one is stupid enough to completely miss the one thing they're looking for when it's _right there in front of them._"

"Says the one who spent four hours looking for his wallet when it was in his back pocket the whole time," Gus countered.

"That's beside the point," Shawn dismissed. "If they wanted the plans, the kidnappers probably would've just killed Anderson, take the flashdrive, and sell it on the black market. No, this is something else, something fishy, like the fact that Harrison Ford wasn't in The Expendables."

Gus quirked a brow as the duo got to the Psych HQ. "How is that fishy?"

"How can you have a movie featuring badass action stars _without _Harrison Ford?" Shawn asked incredulously. "It's a conspiracy!"

"Harrison Ford's like, seventy," Gus argued.

"Well if he can do all right in Crystal Skull..."

Gus was about to unlock the door, when he froze.

"What's wrong?"

"The door's open."

"What?"

Gus pushed open the door lightly and motioned for Shawn to go ahead.

"What? Why do I have to go ahead?" Shawn whisperd

"If there's a burgalar, I need you for a human shield," Gus argued.

"No, I thought we agreed that you're _my_ human shield!" Shawn hissed.

The two suddenly heard voices from inside, so they decided to sneak in quietly at the same time, staying crouched as they reached their main office. Outside the door, they could hear two men with distinct accents bickering.

"I'm sure this is breaking an entry!"

"They'll be back soon."

"You couldn't have just waited outside?"

"John, what's the point in having diplomatic immunity if you can't use it?"

"You would have broken in even without diplomatic immunity!"

"Well, I'm someone that Mr. Spencer needs to see immediately."

Gus looked over at Shawn. "Looks like we have a client."

"We'll just have to tell them we're already busy with a case right now." Shawn said.

Shawn and Gus stood up and opened the door to their office, and walked in to see two men, one weary, with blond hair standing near the window, and the other with black curly hair, and high cheekbones, sitting in Gus' desk as if he owned the place, which he obviously did not.

"I'm sorry gentlemen," said Shawn with a smile. "But the spirits are too busy helping me to deal with another case, so you guys might have to come back another time."

The curly haired man smirked. "So this is the psychic. Alright then, what can you sense about me?"

Shawn raised an eyebrow. This guy was pretty straightforward.

He squinted his eyes as he scanned the man and the surrounding area for anything he could use. Shawn looked at the man's arm, where he could see the faint outlines of nicotine patches through his sleeves. He spotted the man's coat on a chair and noticed a slip of paper sticking out of a pocket with the words British Airlines, and details of a flight made about two days ago. This was about all he could work with for now.

Shawn pressed two fingers to his temple and closed his eyes.

"I'm sensing that you came from a delayed flight on British Airlines, and are currently trying to quit smoking."

He opened his eyes to see the man smirking even more.

"I knew it," the man said with triumph. "You're a fraud."

Shawn chuckled in disbelief. "Excuse me?"

"You did the exact same thing I do when meeting people," the man said. "You are able to find out alot about people through the power of deduction. What I'd like to understand is why you pass off this ability as being 'psychic'."

The man spent the next few moments staring at Shawn.

"Dude, I'm flattered, but I'm not into..."

"The reason you lie to the police is that you had some run in with them in the past, and to avoid being arrested for interfering with police affairs, you pretended to be psychic, hence why you keep this charade going."

Shawn was astonished. "Okay, I can't even deduce something like _that_ from looking at people."

"Why don't you try and see?" the man challenged.

Shawn studied his opponent.

"You're British."

"What gave it away, the accent?"

"Don't be a smartass now."

"I'm afraid that's impossible for him," the blond man said.

"Anyway, I heard you say something about diplomatic immunity (which isn't really all it's made out to be, as I found out),"

"You never truly had diplomatic immunity Shawn," Gus interupted. "That was a one time thing."

"Gus I'm trying to own this guy!"

Gus shrugged. Shawn sighed and continued.

"So I guess you have a family member in the British government. An older brother, most likely. I guess he's about as snooty as you are."

"You don't know the half of it," the black haired man said.

"You're a private investigator like I am," Shawn deduced. "But you don't like to grab life by the balls and have fun. Your work is all you ever do. Solving crimes is the only source of fun you have. You like to flaunt your genius and have low regard for people on a lower level than you."

Shawn smirked. "Your brother put you on the Anderson case, and the only reason you accepted was because of me, because you finally heard of someone else with the same abilities of deduction as you."

The man smiled. "Couldn't have put it better."

He shook Shawn's hand. "Sherlock Holmes, Consultant Detective. That is my partner, Doctor John Watson."

"Wait," Gus said. "You mean the Sherlock and Watson from the blogs?"

Sherlock sighed. "Really? Even Americans read that thing?"

"Told you it was popular," John shrugged.

"You really didn't know the earth revolves around the sun?" Gus asked Sherlock.

"Seriously?" Shawn said surprised. "Since when?"

Gus rolled his eyes. "It's been proven for ages, Shawn."

"Well I never paid attention in Geometry, Gus."

Gus pinched the bridge of his nose. John cleared his throat.

"So, what do you have on the Anderson case so far?" he asked.

"Not much," Shawn said. "I've sensed- I mean, observed, that there was no sign of a struggle and the plans for the defense system were untouched."

"Seriously?" John said, amazed. "Then if he wasn't kidnapped for the plans, and there were no signs of a struggle, then what happened?"

"Interesting," Sherlock breathed. "There may be a vendetta involved, I _love _those."

Just then, Shawn' phone rang. He picked it up and walked out of the room.

"So what can you say about me?" Gus asked Sherlock.

"You're a pharmaceutical salesman who hasn't had a date in four months," Sherlock said dismissively.

"Do I really have anything on me indicating that?" Gus asked, checking himself over. "Do I have traces of pills or a number sticking out of my jacket pocket?"

"No, I looked through your planner," Sherlock said, pointing at said planner. "You have a meeting with a client on Tuesday and the last time a date was marked on here was four months ago."

Gus looked over at John. "At least he doesn't steal stuff from my desk."

"You should just be glad he didn't _leave_ anything in your desk," John chuckled.

Shawn came back into the room with his cell phone in hand, with the look that told he had bad news.

"What's wrong?" John asked.

"That was Jules. She wants us to meet her and Lassie at the country club."

"Why?" asked Gus.

Shawn was about to answer when Sherlock did it for him.

"They found the body of Robert Anderson."

**A/N: Wow, alot of people seem to like this fic, and I'm only two chapters in! Sorry if these chapters are a little short, espcially the first one, however, I intend to make the chapters longer as the plot thickens. Right now I just hope I can actually pull this story off without making the characters OOC and be able to write a plot fitting of the actual shows. Luckily I'm able to take advantage of the free time I have right now, since next week is exams week. Ugh.**

**Please Read and Review!**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: It's On!

Shawn and gus made their way from the Blueberry to the caution taped golf course, with Sherlock and John closely behind. Shawn kept looking behind his shoulder, as if hoping to lose them. He then started to sprint faster towards the crime scene.

"Slow down," said Gus. "What's the rush?"

"I want to be able to examine the crime scene before _Mr. Snooty Von Tightbritches _has the chance."

Gus gave Shawn a confused look. "What did you just call him?"

Shawn rolled his eyes. "Look, the point is, I can't let this guy steal my thunder. Plus, I can't let him show off his deduction skills, or else everyone will realize I'm not psychic."

As Shawn and Gus were involved in their conversation, John turned to his own associate.

"You do realize your putting that bloke's career on the line, right?" he said.

"How so?" inquired Sherlock.

"If you start doing your own... thing... here in front of the police, they'll realize that Shawn has been doing the exact same thing this whole time, and they'll fire him, or worse, arrested for lying about being psychic and interfering with police buisness."

"That's not my fault," Sherlock dismissed. "Spencer's the one who's been spreading these grandoise lies about himself. If the police here are competant enough to realize the similarities between his methods and my own, then I'll happily to congragulate them for doing their jobs better than Scotland Yard. Plus, it would mean less competition for me."

"Competition?" John asked increduously.

"I take pride in what I do, John. For years, I honed and developed my skills of deduction and reasoning to the point of perfection, and this bloody fool simply takes these skills for granted and passes it off as this psychic rubbish simply because he wants something to make himself feel special and unique."

"That last part sounded alot like you," John pointed out.

Sherlock ignored this comment. "If someone wants to be the first psychic detective like how I'm the first consultant detective, that's fine despite being impossible. However, I refuse to let the title exist as a ruse to cover up for this yankee's insecurities. Either he comes out and admits that he's like me and not psychic, or he will go down hard. There can be only one of us, John, and I intend to be the one left standing."

Lassiter, Juliet, and a few other cops were standing around a small marsh that served as an out-of-bounds for the golf course where Shawn guessed the body was located.

"Lassie! I didn't know you liked to golf!" Shawn shouted. "How about we go play a couple of rounds at the Put Put place!"

Lassiter rolled his eyes and turned to see Psych accompanied by Sherlock and John.

"Oh, no!" Lassiter groaned. "No no no no no! Spencer, what did I say about bringing people to a crime scene?"

"...Don't," Shawn answered. "But these guys are here to investigate as well."

"I don't recall Chief Vick hiring other consultants," Juliet mused.

"That's because we were sent from Britain," Sherlock said, making his way forward. "Sherlock Holmes, consultant detective. This is my associate Doctor John Watson."

"Oh, you're the guys from the blogs," Juliet exclaimed excitedly.

Sherlock gave her an interested look. "You know about us?"

"Yeah, I read John Watson's blogs at work when..."

Lassiter gave her a pointed look.

"...I mean, on my own time," Juliet finished.

"Really?" Sherlock smirked. "Do you happen to notice any similarities between Spencer and I?"

"A little," said Juliet. "But Shawn is able to sense people and places relevant to the case without even being there."

"More like without doing any actual police work," muttered Lassiter.

Sherlock's smirk faded. So _that's_ how he gets away with claiming to be psychic, by observing the crime scene and doing investigations without the police around to hinder him, and then reporting his findings under the guise of a vision.

"Well then, I suppose you won't mind if I take a look at the body, then?" he asked.

"Um, actually," Shawn said quickly as he stepped between Sherlock and the SBPD detectives. "I need to have direct contact with the body so the spirits can tell me everything there is to know about him."

"Well, it looks like he was stabbed." said Lassiter. "All we really need to know is who did it."

Sherlock smirked. "Really, Carlton is it? If you're as good of an investigator as you make yourself out to be, then you would know that you always need to look deeper, because nothing is as it seems."

Lassiter glared at Sherlock. "Are you saying I don't know how to do my job?"

"No, I'm saying you don't know how to do your job _properly_," Sherlock answered nonchalantly.

"Hey, Lassiter's managed to solve quite a few cases on his own and brought many criminals to justice," Gus defended.

"And some he just outright shot," added Shawn. "Speaking of which, how's that guy from the Old Sonora case healing up?"

"Can it, Spencer."

Lassiter then turned to Sherlock. "Look, I don't know who you think you are, but if you think you can just come up here and-"

Sherlock walked right past him and headed towards the body.

"Hey!" Lassiter shouted, slightly offended.

"Sorry about him," John said. "He's kind of..."

"A prick?" Lassiter offered.

"...I was going to say proud."

"How do you put up with him?" Shawn asked.

"It's not easy," John admitted. "But he really is a good friend once you get to know him."

"He's pretty good looking," Juliet commented, eyeing Sherlock as he walked off.

Evereybody else stared at her, with Shawn raising his eyebrow the highest. Juliet looked at her boyfriend, her eyes widening at what she just said.

"I mean-not as good looking as you. But his cheekbones, and-"

"Okay, we get it," Shawn interupted quickly. He was begining to like this guy less and less.

Meanwhile, Sherlock dragged Robert Anderson's body from the marsh and turned it over. The man's skin was now as pale as can be, his face fozen in wide eye shock, his brown hair soaked with muck. Sherlock estimated his time of death to be somewhere close to two o'clock AM, about eight hours ago. He opened the man's shirt and inspected the wound in the man's chest. Sherlock could tell the knife used to stab him was a butcher knife, but something seemed off. The wound didn't match the time Anderson was killed. It looked like it was made about an hour _after_ Anderson was killed. Which meant the cause of death was something completely different. But what was it?

Sherlock searched the man's pockets and found his wallet, finding three separate pictures of Anderson with three separate women. In each picture, his arm was around them in a loving fashion, however, in a picture of him with a blond woman, both of them were wearing wedding bands on their fingures, while in the other pictures, Anderson and the two other women were not. He quickly checked Mr. Anderson's right hand for a wedding ring. It was not there, but Sherlock could still make out the trace of it being forcefully removed. Sherlock smirked. Interesting.

Lastly, Sherlock checked the man's jacket pockets. Inside one of them, he pulled out a slip of paper with two addresses labled on it:

Nina: 182 Oak Valley Dr.

Anna: 459 Scarlet Ln.

Sherlock returned the wallet to the corpse's pockets, kept the addresses for himself, and retreated from the marsh to rejoin everyone else.

"Well everyone, I found out that the stabbing wasn't what killed him," explained Sherlock. "So we'll need a coroner to inspect the body and find traces of some sort of toxin, that would be the only logical explanation as to how he died."

"Wait, how do you know the stabbing didn't kill him?" asked Juliet.

"The wound was made after the victim perished. I estimated his time of death to be two AM, the wound looked as if it was made an hour later. Also I found two possible suspects and their addresses."

He handed Lassiter the slip with the addresses and continued to speak.

"In his wallet, he had three pictures of himself with three different women, one of them his wife, the other two I can assume to be lovers. My guess is that he decided to visit them while on his buisness excursion. His wedding ring was also forcibly removed from his right ring finger, meaning he might of tried to call off one of the affairs, and one of these women didn't take it well, so they killed him and took the ring as a trophy."

"So this has nothing to do with the plans," John said.

"Exactly!" Sherlock said with the triumph in his voice that irritated Shawn. "All that's left is to investigate these women and see which of them is the killer."

"I'll have Woody inspect the body," Lassiter said. He handed the slip back to Sherlock. "You and Mr. Watson find out what you can about these women, while O'Hara and I interview Anderson's buisness associates and see what they know."

"What about Gus and I?" asked Shawn indignantly. "We're still on this case!"

"No, you were on the case when this was a kidnapping," said Lassiter. "Now it's a murder investigation, and until Chief Vick says otherwise, you two are not on this case."

Shawn pretended to look dejected. "Alright, come on Gus."

Shawn then started his way back to the Blueberry, with Gus right behind him.

"We're gonna investigate anyway, aren't we?"

"You betcha!" Shawn said cheerfully.

"Spencer!"

Shawn and Gus turned to see Sherlock and John running up to them. Sherlock stopped in front of Shawn and tore the slip with the addresses in half, giving one of them to Shawn.

"To even things out," Sherlock said.

Shawn studdied the slip with confusion. "Why are you giving me this?"

"Well it wouldn't be good sportsmanship if I left you with nothing for your _visions_."

Shawn glared at Sherlock. "Oh, I get it. You want to turn this into some sort of game."

"Only to prove I'm the superior investigator," Sherlock said with a smirk.

"Well prepare to eat your words, because you're going down!"

"We'll see."

Shawn turned and continued towards the Blueberry, with Gus and John casting apoligetic glances at eachother before the former followed Shawn. As the Blueberry drove off, John's eyes widened in realization.

"Sherlock, they drove us here."

Sherlock looked unconcerned. "So?"

"We don't have a car."

Sherlock smirked once more. "Well then, take your pick John. There's plenty of cars to choose from, waiting to be hotwired."

"Wait a moment, you can't just-"

"Diplomatic immunity, remember?"

John sighed. Sherlock was having way too much fun with this diplomatic immunity thing.

"Damn you, Mycroft," he muttered.

**A/N: Place your bets folks! Who will come out on top? The fake psychic/real detective, or the modernized private eye from Baker Street? **

**Read and Review**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Distraction

"Okay, here's the plan. You keep the suspect distracted, while I search the house for anything connecting her with the murder."

"No," said Gus defensively. "You are not gonna leave me alone with a potential murderer again!"

"Gus, when have I ever left you alone with a potential murderer?"

Gus glared at Shawn. "Too many to count."

Shawn sighed. "Okay, how about we just do a regular interview. If she doesn't talk, _then_ you can distract her while I look for evidence."

"I suppose that'll do."

Shawn knocked on the door. When the door opened, he and Gus were caught slightly offguard when a blonde woman in her early thirties answered the door, with a baby boy in her left arm.

"Can I help you?" she asked with a confused expression.

"It's not her," Shawn immediately said.

"How do you know?" asked Gus.

"Excuse me, who are you?"

"Oh, sorry. My name is Shawn Spencer, and this is my associate, Smitty Vinckleheimer."

Gus raised an eyebrow at the latest alias his fake psychic friend gave him. Shawn looked back at him.

"What, did I already use that one?"

Gus rolled his eyes and turned his attention to the woman. "Are you Nina?"

"...Yes?" the woman replied.

"Do you happen to know a man named Robert Anderson?"

"The name doesn't sound familiar," Nina replied. "Why don't you two come inside."

"Certainly," Shawn smiled politely. The duo stepped into the house, with Nina closing the door behind them.

**Meanwhile...**

"I think we're lost, Sherlock."

"We're not lost, John."

"You've passed that street sign six times already."

"No I didn't, it's a completely different one."

"There's the bloke who's walking his dog again. He's giving us an odd look."

"He's fought in Vietnam, of course he'd be paranoid."

"Do you even know where this street is?"

A brief pause filled the air.

"John, I think we're lost."

"_No_," John replied sarcastically.

"Well, let's just put the address in the GPS and see what happens."

John stared at Sherlock in shock. "We had a GPS this entire time, and you drove around aimlessly for _forty five minutes?_"

"I don't know how to turn it on."

John's jaw dropped. "You mean to tell me the great Sherlock Holmes, who can figure out who the murderer is by spotting a loose button on the ground, doesn't know how to turn on a bloody GPS?!"

"I never had to, I always took the cab back in London."

John rolled his eyes as he turned on the GPS and put in the desired address. He then started laughing. Sherlock joined in.

"...Don't know how to work a GPS," John laughed.

"It is...rather funny," Sherlock breathed.

The two continued to laugh as they drove off to where the GPS would lead them.

**Elsewhere...**

"So, what you're saying is...you never met this man before in your life?"

Shawn and Gus were sitting in the living room, Shawn holding the baby in his lap and trying to get him to stop pulling at his hair. Gus smirked at this.

"I'm sorry," Nina said. "But I don't date or really get out of the house much at all. I'm too busy raising Henry."

"Hey, that's my dad's name," Shawn said. He raised Baby Henry up to his face.

"You hear that," Shawn said in a baby voice. "You're my baby daddy. Yes you are, yes you a-"

The baby then vomited onto Shawn's shirt.

"...Well you certainly hold me in the same low regard as him. Though I don't think he would actually puke on me. That would be gross. And quite disturbing."

Shawn handed the baby back to Nina.

"And you said you found a picture of me with the man in his pocket and my address?"

"Well, we didn't," Gus corrected. "But Sherlock Holmes did."

"Who?"

"The world's biggest, most pompous, arrogant little di-"

Gus covered Shawn's mouth before he could start spewing profanities in front of the infant. "He's a fellow investigator."

"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I can't help you." Nina said.

"That's okay, we'll be leaving now."

Shawn stood up. "Sorry for disturbing you. Come on, Smitty."

Gus gave a confused look and followed Shawn out the door.

"Hold on Shawn," Gus said as he caught up. "What makes you think this woman's innocent?"

"Think about it Gus, she's a single mom, she didn't have a number or instructions for a baby sitter lying around, so she must care for the tyke 24/7. Plus, when we talked to her, she genuinely looked like she had no idea what the hell we were talking about."

"She could have been acting."

"I can tell when people are lying Gus. She was telling the truth."

"Then why would there be a picture of her with Anderson."

"It could have been forged."

"How would you know? Sherlock's the only one who saw it."

"Well, he done goofed," Shawn said in a lousy Scottish accent.

Shawn then heard his phone ring. He pulled it out of his pocket and looked at the caller ID. It wasn't a number he recognized. Shawn shrugged and answered it anyway.

"Hello?"

"If you're as smart as people say you are," said a voice with a cockney accent. "Then you probably realized that the evidence Holmes found was falsified."

Shawn raised an eyebrow. "Who is this?"

"I'm the one who killed Robert Anderson."

"And you're calling me because..."

"Meet me at the parking garage on mainstreet in thirty minutes. Bring Holmes and Watson with you."

The other line hung up, leaving Shawn confused.

"Who was that?" Gus asked.

"The killer."

"How'd he get your number?"

Shawn shifted his eyes to the ground. "I kind of put my number in the phonebook."

Gus raised an eyebrow.

"I figured it would be good for buisness," Shawn shrugged.

"No, I'm just suprised you didn't use my number."

"Huh, now that you mentioned it..."

"Don't even think about it."

"We're getting off topic," Shawn said hurriedly. "We need to get ahold of Sherlock and John and tell them where we need to meet the killer."

"I'll call John right now," Gus said.

Shawn raised an eyebrow as Gus dialed a number. "When did you get his number?"

"During the car ride to the country club."

Shawn continued to look at Gus questioningly.

"What?"

"You asked for another man's phone number?"

"There's nothing weird about that Shawn."

"If you say so."

Gus rolled his eyes.

**(Please insert synonym for meanwhile here)**

John felt his phone vibrate as Sherlock parked in front of the address and pulled it out to answer it.

"Hello? Gus, is that you?"

There was silence as John listened to what Gus said over the phone. Sherlock looked over with an eyebrow raised.

"Okay, we'll be there," John confirmed.

He then hung up and turned to Sherlock. "We need to meet Shawn and Gus at the parking garage on mainstreet."

"Why?"

"Shawn says he got a call from the killer."

"But why would the killer call unless..."

Sherlock hit the steering wheel in frustration. "How could I possibly overlook that?"

"Overlook what?"

"The pictures were forged. Or, at least, the ones with the women who aren't his wife were forged. The one with his wife was definitely real, most likely the basis for the forgeries. Which means the addresses and the removed wedding ring were planted."

"But why would the killer admit that he placed false evidence? Could it be a trap?"

"There's only one way to find out."

As Sherlock shifted the car back into drive, he looked over to see John smirking at him.

"What?"

"Looks like Shawn's ahead of you."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "He may have won the battle, but not the war."

Thirty minutes later, the two pairs approached eachother in front of the parking garage, with Shawn gleaming a grin of success.

"Well, lookie here," he said. "Looks like you overlooked some pretty crucial details regarding the so-called evidence. Score one for Shawn, zero for Schmucklock."

Sherlock paused. "What did you call me?"

"Schmucklock. You know, like, schmuck and Sherlock combined into one word, so its an insult but its also a pun on your name, and-"

Shawn faltered as Sherlock and John continued to stare at him.

"I told you that one would suck," said Gus.

Shawn heard his phone ring again and answered it.

"Okay, no need to get your panties in a bunch, we're all here-"

"I know. Go up to the next to the last floor and wait for further instructions."

The phone hung up.

"What did he say?" John asked.

"To the elevator!" Shawn cried dramatically, running off and pointing ahead, with the others merely gaping at him as they followed.

After a few minutes of listening to smooth elevator music (and Shawn and Sherlock getting into a shoving match), they finally landed on the next to last floor of the garage. Shawn's phone rang again, leading him to answer it for the third time.

"Approach the left line of cars and look out at the tallest skyscraper you see."

The four did as they were told, with Sherlock and Shawn squinting to find anything that might be useful about the building.

"See me yet?"

Shawn's eyes widened. "Sniper."

"Don't worry, I'm not gonna shoot any of you. Just let me speak to the doctor."

"Doctor who?" Shawn snickered.

"I'm sick of that bloody joke, just let me talk to Doctor Watson!"

Shawn handed the phone to John. "He wants to talk to you."

John gave Shawn a quzzical look as he took the phone.

"Hello?"

"'Ello, John. Remember me?"

John certainly recognized the voice, but it couldn't be.

"Sebastian Moran?"

"Surprised?"

"...You've been declared Killed in Action, of course I'm surprised!"

"No thanks to you, considering that you and the rest of the old unit left me to be tortured by the Taliban."

"I saw you get shot through the neck. I even tried to stop the bleeding!"

"Yet you still left me behind."

"The enemy was closing in, we had no choice!"

"Sure, Johnny. Whatever helps you sleep at night."

John sighed. "Why did you kill Robert Anderson?"

"To provide a distraction."

"A distraction? A distraction from what?"

"Spencer will be recieving a call from the SBPD any second now. Then you'll know."

The phone hung up and then immediately began ringing again, this time being Juliet's number.

"It's your girlfriend," John said.

He handed the phone back to Shawn, who then answered it.

"Jules?"

"Shawn, you need to come down to the station now!"

"Look, if this is about the Anderson case, I just had a vision as to who might be behind it-"

"That's gonna have to wait Shawn. Something much bigger came up."

Shawn walked away from the other three detectives and looked around.

"How big?"

"Remember Allison, from the Yin investigation?"

"You mean the one he hired to replace Yang?"

"She escaped from the asylum less than five minutes ago."

A long pause filled the air.

"Shawn?"

"I'll be right there."

Shawn hung up and kicked a parked car, immediately regretting doing so and hopping on one foot, made his way back to the others.

"Just when I think it's over, they always manage to pull me back," he muttered.

"Shawn, what's wrong?" Gus asked.

"This whole investigation's been a setup from the beginning! Allison, Mr. Yin's apprentice, escaped from the asylum!"

At the mention of their past enemy, Gus fainted, while John looked at Shawn worriedly, and Sherlock looked intrigued. This certainly was an interesting turn of events.

**A/N: Being sick sucks. The only good thing about it is I'm able to stay home from school and write this. **

**Stay tuned for the next chapter. Until then, continue to, say it with me now...**

**Read and Review :) **


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Outburst

Gus felt like he wanted to faint again.

It seemed that every corner they turned, as the four of them got closer and closer to the mental ward, more bodies of guards kept showing up. Most of them look like their necks were snapped, while some had gunshot wounds, meaning Allison might have stolen a gun while she escaped. Gus still hasn't gotten over his necrophobia, even after seeing a therapist and all the cases he solved with Shawn. Then again, those usually only involved one corpse. Here, there were about a dozen.

John took note of Gus' condition with slight concern.

"You okay?"

Gus gulped and gave a weak nod. "It's nothing."

As they got to Allison's cell, the hallway bacame fludded with cops. Shawn had to jump up and down to see Lassiter and Juliet over the sea of officers, shoving through them to get to the scene.

"Okay, what happened?" Shawn demanded.

"The prisoner was able to shatter the plastic door from inside her cell," Lassiter explained. "We looked through security footage and found that a guard was helping her escape."

"Did you see what caused the cell door to shatter?" Sherlock inquired as he made his way to the SBPD detectives.

"Or a look of the guard's face?" Shawn added.

"Unfortunately, no," Juliet said. "The cameras were down in this block so we could only see the footage of her escaping with the guard in the hallways and from an overhead angle so we couldn't see the guard's face. We also tried interrogating some of the prisoners, but none of them would talk for... one reason or another."

Juliet turned to see one prisoner rubbing his face against the plastic and giving her a demented grin. She shuddered.

Sherlock raised a hand to his chin in thought.

Shawn, however, darted his eyes to the shards of plastic on the ground. On one of the larger ones, he noticed that there was an imprint, one that looked to be the corner of a rectangular object. Maybe a bomb? No, if it were a bomb, there would be much more damage, and Allison probably would have died from the blast. So what was it?

Then it hit him.

He raised his fingers to his temple and closed his eyes.

"I'm sensing that the prisoner escaped by the guard smuggling her a sonic... box of chicken strips? No."

Sherlock broke away from his thought process and raised an eyebrow at his fellow private eye.

"Sonic... the Hedgehog? No, I'm pretty sure the prison has a no pet policy. But I'm also getting a vison of that obsessive stalker of his, Amy, I think. So the object might also have an Am in it..."

"Will you just get on with it?" Sherlock asked impaitently.

"You can't rush these psychic visions," Shawn said. "They need my undivided attention in order to decipher them."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "He's talking about a sonic wave amplifier, possibly military grade, which confirms that this is connected to the Anderson case."

Shawn's arms dropped to his side as he turned to Sherlock with an annoyed look.

"Wow. Way to kill the psychic juju flowing through me."

Sherlock merely smirked.

"Wait, back up," Lassiter said. "How does this connect to the Anderson case?"

"The killer outright told us that the murder served nothing more than as a distraction to cover this escape." Sherlock explained.

"And who might the killer be?" Lassiter asked skeptically.

"Sebastian Moran."

John and Gus joined the other four, with Gus sending an appoligetic shrug to an officer whom's toes he accidently stepped on.

"He was a sniper in my unit during our time in Afghanistan," John explained. "He was assumed to be Killed In Action after taking a bullet to the neck."

"Then how is he still alive?" Juliet asked, slightly disturbed.

"I don't know," John admitted. "He shouldn't be."

"What I don't understand is what he would gain by helping a serial killer's protege escape," Gus said.

"Gus, why would you call her a cheese?" Shawn puzzled.

Gus rolled his eyes. "Protege means student, Shawn."

"Then what's that cheese that's in circular slices?"

"That's Provelone."

Shawn shrugged. "I prefer Gouda myself. Has a bit more flavor to it."

"Are you really having this discussion right now?" Sherlock asked increduously.

"You know, I wonder what small Gouda cubes and pineapple on a toothpick would taste like," Shawn mused.

"I've never had pineapple before," John said.

Shawn's jaw dropped. "Dude, you're _so_ missing out! We need to get you to a fruit market stat!"

"We are in the middle of investigating a prison break right now," Sherlock exasperated. "We don't have time to be talking about something as trivial as food-"

"Oh! The best way to try pineapple is to order a pizza with it, in addition to pepperoni, Canadian bacon, peppers, mushrooms, Skittles..."

John raised an eyebrow in interest. "Skittles?"

"Don't knock it 'til you try it," Gus shrugged.

Sherlock rubbed his temples. "I'm surrounded by idiots."

"Now you know how I feel," Lassiter muttered.

Juliet gave him a stern look.

Sherlock sighed. "I'm sure Moran is nothing more than a hired gun. We need to look for the mastermind of the break out. Where is Yin's daughter?"

"Yang?" Lassiter said, raising an eyebrow. "She was moved to a different cell after the escape, just in case she might try anything."

"You think she might know something?" John asked.

"Her original cell was straight over there," Sherlock explained, pointing to the end of the hall. "She might have seen the guard run with Allison and be able to describe him so we know what he looks like."

Lassiter gave the Brit an annoyed look. "Don't you think we haven't already tried talking to her? Yang won't talk to any of us."

"She'll talk to me," Shawn piped up. "She helped willingly the last couple of times I came to her."

"But Shawn," Juliet protested. "I don't think Allison was the kind of person to go bragging about her escape plans during free time in the courtyard. Yang probably didn't know there was going to be an escape until it happened."

"I know. But if she did see the guard and what he looked like, we can find out who he is and be able to use him to track both Allison _and_ Moran if they really are working together."

Lassiter and Juliet gave eachother a weary look, then the latter sighed.

"Turn left, keep going straight, then turn right."

Shawn smiled. "Thanks Jules."

"Mind if I come with you?" Sherlock asked.

"Actually, Gus and I are usually the ones to..."

"Not this time, Shawn," Gus interupted. "I'm gonna leave it to the professionals."

"Yes," John said. "After all, you and Sherlock could use the bonding."

Shawn could see amused smirks on the doctor and his best friend's faces. Shawn sighed.

"Fine, come on."

As the two detectives went down the hall, away from the cops, Sherlock opened his mouth started talking (No suprise, Shawn thought).

"You know, I find serial killers are quite fascinating to study, and from what you told me about Yang's fixation on you, it would be interesting to hear about it from her and her reasons behind it."

"Umm..." Shawn hesitated. "...Yang never actually killed anyone."

Sherlock's face suddenly looked downfallen. "Really?"

"Yeah, her father commited the murders attributed to her, she just helped plan them," Shawn explained. "Then again, she did kill Yin to save Gus and I, so she obviously has serious daddy issues that you can look into."

"Well, patricide cases did interest me alot as a teenager," Sherlock nonchalantly. "Especially since I practically never saw my own father. He was always away at work, or some other event whenever I came home from school."

"Oh," Shawn said uncomfortably. "Sorry."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "What for?"

"Your dad never spending time with you."

Sherlock smirked. "Nonsense. At least he never tried to force his career onto me like yours."

Shawn was taken aback. "I never told you anything about my dad."

Sherlock chuckled. "Well, Mr. Spencer, how else could you have obtained your 'gift'?"

Sherlock walked ahead, leaving Shawn glaring after him. This guy was definitely getting tobasco sauce slipped into his tea and a dirt filled crumpet.

"Well Shawn, it seems we're binded by some thread of destiny."

Sherlock immediately noted that this woman had an unhealthy obsession with Spencer. He also took note of how uncomfortable Shawn was looking at the moment.

"It certainly seems so," Shawn said with an unsure grin.

Through her cell, Yang darted her brown eyes up and down, taking in Sherlock's appearance. "Who's your new friend?"

Shawn coughed. "Um, I wouldn't call him a friend..."

"Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective," Sherlock greeted.

"Yeah. Him."

Yang gave Sherlock a mischevious grin. "Ooh, British. That's sexy."

"What can you tell us about Miss Cowley's escape?" Sherlock asked in a buisness like tone.

"Oh, you mean my 'replacement'?", Yang asked in a bored tone.

She pretended to make a gagging sound. "Well, I was taking an afternoon nap, when I was rather _rudely_ awakened by the sound of a cell shattering. I got up and looked out of my own cell to see one of the guards helping her out. When two other guards showed up, the rouge one shot them and ran off with the girl."

"Can you tell us what the guard looked like?" Shawn questioned.

Yang pursed her lips. "Short dark hair, slim build, traces of a five o'clock shadow."

Sherlock familiarized with the description. Could it be... No, he thought. There are probably millions of people in the world with that description. He wouldn't even have a reason to be here, right?

Still, he figured he should keep an open mind to that theory.

"You didn't here a name tossed around?" Shawn asked.

"No," Yang answered simply. "You know, my good behavior has allowed me to have visitors come inside my cell, if either of you two are interested."

She winked at the two detectives. Shawn rubbed his neck uncomfortably while Sherlock showed no reaction.

"I have a girlfriend, remember?" Shawn said.

"That's fine. She's here right now, right? She's welcome to join in on the fun."

An awkward silence ensued. Sherlock simply spun around and walked away, his face still expressionless, but Shawn had the feeling that he was just as creeped out as he was himself.

"Thank you for your time," Shawn said quickly, before breaking off into a run after Sherlock.

"Ok, let's start with what we know."

Shawn stepped back into the Psych main room to see Gus and John sitting around, but his rival was nowhere to be seen.

"Where's Holmes?"

It was at that moment that Sherlock entered from the back room, playing with some sort of device.

"Don't mind me, do carry on Spencer," Sherlock said as he sat at Gus' desk, much to the latter's chargin. It was at that moment that Shawn recoginized the purple device Sherlock was playing with.

"Is that my old Game Boy Color?" Shawn asked increduously. "And my copy of Pokemon Red?"

Sherlock shrugged. "I started a new game if you don't mind. But don't worry. I transfered all the version exclusive creatures, including your special event Mew, from your previous playthrough to another game boy I found containing Pokemon Blue, and completing the pokedex in that version."

Sherlock noticed Shawn was still staring at him. "I'm not a 12 year old boy, this can't distract me. Go on with what you were saying."

"Wait a minute," Gus said abruptly. "I lost a game boy with a Pokemon Blue cartridge years ago."

Gus glared at Shawn, who whistled innocently.

"...Anyway, first off,"

Shawn drew three stick figures on the glass window with a dry erase marker, two of them carrying the third over their heads.

"Robert Anderson was kidnapped over three days ago, his body found today. We are still unsure of the cause of death. The defense plans were left alone."

He drew a stick figure lying in squiggly lines representing water and another stick figure carelessly throwing away the flashdrive.

"Then, we are led on a wild pheasant chase-"

"Wild goose chase," Gus corrected.

"I heard it both ways," Shawn dismissed. "To find the killer, who happens to be Johnny's former squad mate from the British Army."

Shawn then drew five more stick figures, one standing on top of a building that seemed to be laughing at the four on the ground. John stiffled a chuckle as he noticed the Sherlock stick figure had a noticably bigger head than all the other stick figures and had buck teeth and freckles. He looked over to see his friend's reaction, only to see him still playing the game.

"Then, we learn that the whole thing was nothing more than a distraction so that Allison can escape from the looney bin."

His final drawing consisted of a stick figure with long hair skipping away from a rectangular shape with a hole in it.

"So the main question to all this is..."

Shawn then wrote a huge WTF? right below the drawings.

"...Why?"

The room remained silent.

"This is all part of something big," John said. "Whoever hired Moran must have known about his connection to me, and obviously knows about Shawn due to releasing the apprentice to one of his most dangerous foes. From the looks of it, we share a common enemy."

Sherlock chuckled. "I highly doubt it. My enemies are smart enough to know an idiot when they see one. They wouldn't waste their time on Spencer."

"Ok, that's it!" Shawn exclaimed, slamming his fists onto his desk. Everyone looked up in alarm. "If all you're going to do is mock me, Holmes, then get out! You solved your missing person case, so why don't you just jump on the first flight to London and get out of my hair?!"

Sherlock put the gameboy on the desk and stood up, his face reddening with anger.

"Moran needs to be extradited to the UK, therefore, I will not leave until he is brought to justice. And I will not leave this case in the hands of a baffoon who has to play fortune teller to stay in good graces with the police, and can't even get a saying as basic as 'wild goose chase' right!"

"Oh, so I'm a baffoon, huh? I'd rather be that than an arrogant dick like yourself!"

"Yankee imbecile!"

"Limey jerkass!"

The two detectives glared at eachother, with Gus and John looking on, uncomfortable and feeling as if the temperature dropped twenty degrees.

"You know," Shawn said. "I think I get why your dad was never home. He didn't want to be around your stupid, ugly, boney mug."

Sherlock jumped over Gus' desk and landed on top of Shawn, punching him rapidly. Shawn managed to kick Sherlock off, sending him flying onto the desk. Gus and John's jaws dropped.

"How could you be such a heartless bastard?" Shawn said as he wiped blood from his mouth. "You don't care about justice, or saving lives. You only solve the crimes that you think are 'fun', you could care less if even a _child_ is murdered, as long as you get your entertainment! That's textbook sociopathic behavior!"

"Oh look," Sherlock chuckled as he got up from the desk. "You _can_ say big words and know what they mean. But be honest with yourself, Spencer. Are you any different? What exactly did you want to do with your life before becoming a psychic detective? Why did you become one to begin with? I know it started off as a lie to fend off the police, but why keep it up after so long? Do you secretly enjoy it when the police needs you to solve a crime that they can't? Was this ever really about justice, or are you just as bored as I am? So don't go and claim that you're morally superior to me yet."

Shawn grabbed Sherlock by the shirt and raised a fist. Sherlock raised his as well.

"That's enough!" Gus and John said simultaneously as they pulled their respective friends apart.

Sherlock gave Shawn a contemptuous glare, who returned it ten fold.

"Come on, John," Sherlock said as he headed towards the door. "We can solve this case without these idiots."

"Good luck with that," Shawn replied sarcastically.

Sherlock exited Psych headquarters while Shawn went into the kitchen. John and Gus each gave eachother an apologetic glance before the former followed his flatmate out the door.

Gus sighed. He then picked up the gameboy and continued from where Sherlock left off.

**A/N: Sorry it took so long for me to update this! I was having a bit of a writer's block after the twist I pulled in the previous chapter, and new ideas for stories were flowing through my head as well, which you are free to check out as well ;)**

**Wanna see the author tempt fate for his own story? "Could this situation get any worse?" Well, you'll have to keep reading to find out. **

**Thank you for all the positive reviews! Keep it up!**


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6: Leverage

Gus was unnerved by how quiet Shawn has been for the past seven hours.

Night was about to fall in Santa Barbara, and Shawn was sitting at his desk, writing down everything that happened today. He was constantly muttering to himself countless possibilities as to motives and locations, and his theories as to how Robert Anderson died were becoming more and more outlandish, even going as far as to mutter something about the Eddie Murphy alien from Meet Dave having something to do with it. Gus sighed, got up from his desk, and walked over to the door, stopping next to Shawn.

"I'm gonna go grab a bite," Gus stated. "You want me to bring you anything?"

"Huh?" Shawn didn't even lift his head. "Yeah sure, whatever."

Gus gave Shawn one last worried look before going out the door. As he approached the street, he pulled out his phone and sent a quick text message before dialing a different number and waiting for the other line to pick up.

_"Hello?" _

"Hey John, it's me, Gus."

_"Oh, hey." _

"So, what're you doing right now?"

_"Just sitting around in the hotel room while Sherlock is in his mind palace." _

Gus raised an eyebrow. "His what?"

_"It's kind of hard to explain." _

"You wanna grab a drink? I know a place downtown."

_"Sure, I could use a beer right now." _

Little did Gus know as he was telling John where to meet him and getting into his car, that he was being watched. As Gus drove off, a black sedan drove off after him.

Henry knew his son too well.

What does he find once he sets foot in Psych HQ? Shawn fast asleep at his desk, drooling on the papers in front of him.

The psychic's father rolled his eyes and nudged his son, who bolted up in shock.

"Yes, he does look like a bitch, Samuel L. Jackson! Please don't kill me!"

Shawn then realized that his father was there.

"Dad? What are you doing here?"

"Well first," Henry started. "I fail to recall actually approving you to go after Allison."

Shawn opened his mouth to speak, but Henry raised his hand to cut him off.

"Look, I know you can't guarantee you'll be safe. Your last confrontation with Yin proved that. But, I also know that if anyone can catch these psychos, you can."

"So is that a yes?" Shawn asked.

Henry nodded.

"Good, because I already started going through-"

"The other reason I'm here is because Gus told me that I needed to talk to you."

Henry grabbed a chair and sat down across from Shawn.

"So what's the problem?"

Shawn shifted his eyes downward. He's learned from his childhood that he could never hide anything from his dad.

"You know the British buisnessman who turned up dead this morning?" Shawn started.

"Yeah, what about it?"

"Well, the British government sent their own consultant to investigate. Sherlock Holmes."

Henry raised an eyebrow. "The guy from the blogs?"

Shawn gave his father an annoyed look.

"Sorry," Henry quickly said.

Shawn sighed and went on.

"The guy's a complete jerk. He's a snob, he's condescending, he has a _disturbing _fascination with the circumstances of his cases, he's-"

"Your exact opposite," Henry finished.

Shawn looked down at his desk.

"It's just, I can't work with him, dad. We're too different."

Henry sighed. "Look Shawn, there's always going to be times where you have to work with people you don't like. Hell, you should know that by now. Remember Declan?"

"That was different," Shawn dismissed. "I didn't exactly dislike him, I was jealous of him."

"That's beside the point," Henry said. "If you and this Sherlock guy keep going at eachother's throats, this case will never get solved. But you two are both very intelligent individuals-"

Henry paused.

"What?" Shawn asked.

"I never thought I'd use that word to describe you," Henry joked.

"Ha ha."

"Anyway, you guys would get alot more accomplished if you put aside your personal differences and work together. If you did that, this case can be solved in no time."

"But Dad, it's not that simple-"

Shawn was interupted by his phone going off. He pulled it out and read a text.

"What is it?"

"Woody found Robert Anderson's cause of death," Shawn said.

Henry stood up. "Alright, then let's get going."

Shawn stood up as well, and both of them headed out to Henry's car.

"So he had to make it look like the cat was speaking to him 'psychically'!"

John laughed. He was sitting with Gus at a near empty bar downtown, cold mug of beer in hand as he and Gus exchanged stories about their respective best friends.

"And the police bought that?" John asked, bewildered.

Gus shrugged. "I highly doubt it, but they go along with alot of Shawn's antics as long as he shows results."

John shrugged. "That seems to be the case with most consultants these days."

"Do you think Shawn and Sherlock are really all that different?" Gus pondered.

John took a sip from his mug. He scratched his chin in thought.

"I think that in terms of personalities, they're polar opposites. Shawn is more laidback and fun seeking, while Sherlock is... Sherlock."

John then gave Gus a smirk.

"I'd take a bullet for Sherlock, but if it were for a day or two, I'd trade him for Shawn."

Gus snorted.

"Please. You do not want Shawn as a partner. He's like a brother to me, but he can be pretty obnoxious."

"Sherlock is just as, or even more, obnoxious."

"Well at least Sherlock doesn't steal your food and break your stuff."

"At least Shawn doesn't store severed heads and disemboweled organs in the refridgerator."

Gus nearly choked on his drink at that revelation.

"On second thought, keep Sherlock," Gus said.

It was at that moment that the door opened and Gus noticed two people, a man and a woman, come in and sit at the far end of the counter.

The man had light brown, shaggy hair, and a gruff demeanor, looking as if he's been in too many fights to count. But his most noticable feature was a scar running down his neck.

And the woman...

Gus gave a small squeal of fright as he recognized the blonde hair, hardened face, and the cold, icy eyes staring at him.

Allison had found them.

"What's wrong?" John said, as he noticed Gus' expression.

"We need to go," Gus said as he stood up quickly.

"Why would we-"

John broke off as he saw Allison and the man accompanying her. However, he was more suprised by the man's appearance.

"Moran," John muttered.

"Let's go out the back way," Gus whispered.

Quietly, and desperately hoping that the criminals wouldn't notice them, the two investigators lightly treaded the floor of the bar towards the back exit, coming out in the alley way.

"Okay," John started. "We need to go to the police department and get them to come back here before..."

He froze at the sound of several guns being cocked. He and Gus turned to see about ten thugs, all armed and ready to shoot if the duo so much as blinked.

"What do you usually do in situations like these?" John asked Gus.

"Either run or wait for the cops to make a dramatic rescue," Gus responded.

"Neither of those options seem like the best right now," John pointed out.

"You know what I like most about America, John?" a voice rang out.

Gus and John turned to see Moran and Allison walking out the exit and approaching them.

Moran smirked. "How easily you can kidnap someone without being noticed."

Allison winked at Gus, who shuddered in revulsion.

"Hello, Gus. It's been far too long."

Blissfully unaware of the situation unraveling across town, Sherlock inspected the various tools and corpses stored in the Santa Barbara Police Department morgue. One particular corpse intrigued him.

"So this victim was killed from his food being spiked with peanut oil?" Sherlock called over to Woody the coroner.

"Oh, yes," Woody answered enthusiastically as he joined the British detective. "Aparently, this man was involved in a custody battle with his ex-wife, and since she knew he had a peanut allergy, she was almost able to get away with blaming his death on merely choking on his food."

Sherlock looked with interest as Woody began to show him the body.

"Now notice here," he lectured as he pointed to the dead man's throat. "That the throat heavily contracted as a result of the allergy. That's what prevented anybody from being able to dislodge the food, due to it being stuck in such a tight area. And she only administered enough to trigger this reaction instead of any other noticable ones. "

"Fascinating," muttered Sherlock.

He then inspected the victim's feet and looked down at Woody's shoes.

"Why are you wearing the deceased's loafers?"

Woody eyed Sherlock with curiosity as to how he was able to deduce that. But after a few seconds, he shrugged.

"My wife gave my old pair to one of her lovers. These are the only ones I could find that fit my feet."

"The personal trainer or the pool cleaner?"

"The mailman," Shawn said as he walked in with who Sherlock assumed to be Spencer Sr.

"I actually had a drink with him," Woody said. "He was pretty nice."

Sherlock and Shawn began to glare at eachother, their previous encounter floating to the surface of their minds.

"Your cheek's looking better," Sherlock commented.

"So's yours," Shawn responded.

"I'd just like to say that how I acted today was out of character," Sherlock said briskly.

"Is that an apology?"

"No, merely stating a fact. My point is, that no matter how satisfiying it would be, you don't have to worry about me punching you again unless in self defense."

"Same here."

"Good."

Shawn then let out a cough that suspiciously sounded like asshole.

Henry rolled his eyes and addressed Woody.

"Have Juliet and Lassiter already seen the body?"

"Oh, yes, now its your turn," Woody said, remembering why they were all there. He then walked over to the operating table, where the pale corpse of Robert Anderson rested.

"I followed Mr. Holmes' hunch and took some blood samples from the body," he explained. "And I found something that I'd never thought I would see working here."

He took a stopper and sucked up a drop of blood from a vial, then administered it onto a microscope slide. He then slid the slide into said microscope.

"Go ahead and take a look."

Shawn tried to make his way to the microscope, but Sherlock shoved him out of the way and beat him to it.

"Hey!"

Sherlock smirked as he looked into the microscope. "Please Spencer, we all know how you would treat this delicate tool like a preschool toy."

Shawn darted his eyes. There was no use denying that he was planning on doing something childish with the microscope, but he was still making up his mind on what exactly to do with it.

Henry aparently got the same idea and rolled his eyes at his son once again.

Sherlock ajusted the knobs on the device as he studied the blood sample. As he recognized the chemicals in the blood, Sherlock realized that they were all components to make one thing.

"Nerve gas," he muttered.

"Surely, you know it's rude to mumble," Shawn spoke up.

"It's not rude if your mumbling to yourself," Sherlock said. "And don't call me Shirley."

Shawn almost jumped in shock.

Henry was also suprised.

"Did you just make an _Airplane!_ reference?" Shawn asked in a bewildered tone.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "When did I ever mention an airplane?"

"No, that line you just said," Henry said. "Don't call me Shirley."

"Oh, yes, my brother Mycroft called me that alot when we were kids, so I have developed a distaste for the nickname."

Shawn's jaw dropped.

"Are you telling me you've never seen_ Airplane!_? One of the most famous comedies of all time?"

"Never heard of it," Sherlock shrugged bluntly.

"Never heard of- what about Monty Python and the Holy Grail?"

"Heard of it, never saw it."

"Spaceballs?"

"No."

"Blue's Brothers?"

"No."

"Ghostbusters?"

"No."

"..."

Shawn merely threw up his hands in defeat. "Alright, so what did you find in the blood?"

"I said it was all the chemical components that can make up a nerve gas," Sherlock explained. "Which means that Anderson was killed away from his home, sice if his home was gassed the police wouldn't have been able to approach it for days."

Sherlock scratched his chin. "From the looks of it, the gas was perfected so that it wouldn't show any signs that it affected the human body that inhaled it. The question is, where would these people have gotten something like this?"

Just then, the four men heard rushing outside the room, and Juliet burst in.

"You guys have to come quick!" she said urgently.

Shawn, Sherlock and Henry followed her upstairs to the main floor of the Police Department, where Chief Vick was clutching an envelope.

"What's wrong, Chief?" Shawn inquired.

Vick gave Shawn a concerned look. "This just came in. It's for you and our guest."

Shawn took the envolpe. It had the Yin Yang symbol on it. Hastily, he ripped it open and pulled out the letter for him and Sherlock to see.

_Guess Who! _

_I'm ready to take on my predecessor's work, and I'm not alone. I'm sure that you know how this whole thing works, right? Only this time, the stakes are much higher than your mother and your two girlfriends. You must have figured out by now about the nerve gas. How we got it is not very important. What is, however, is that we managed to place several canisters across Santa Barbara. We're challenging you to find all of them. The canisters have all been carfully rigged so that they'll go off with a motion sensor when one approaches them. If you can stop the nerve gas from being set off, then not only will you save hundreds of lives, also, you can find clues to locate us. _

_Happy Hunting!_

Shawn turned the letter over to make sure there was nothing else, then turned to Sherlock.

"She kept saying 'we'," Shawn said. "Do you think she's talking about Moran?"

"Most likely," Sherlock said. "If what this letter is true, then we can't waste time. We need to find these canisters."

"But we don't know where to start," Shawn said.

"Yes we do," Juliet said suddenly. "If you two can pick up a trail back at Anderson's hotel room, then that might be able to lead us to where the canister that was used to kill him is."

"It's certainly a start," Sherlock said. "Spencer, I must admit, while I assumed most of your collegues to be incompetant, your girlfriend stands out for her own resourcefulness."

Juliet slightly blushed at this, while Shawn merely grunted.

"Okay, we can start there. But Sherlock, if we're going to find this nerve gas, we're gonna have to put aside our personal differences. There's way too much at stake for us to keep this rivalry going."

Sherlock stared at Shawn for a few moments. He then smirked.

"That may be the smartest thing I've heard you say," he conceeded.

Shawn shrugged. "Eh, I'll take that as a compliment."

He then shook hands with his counterpart.

"Wait," Juliet said, realizing something. "Where's Gus and John?"

"Gus said he was getting something to eat," Shawn said slowly.

"John said he was getting a drink," Sherlock said, just as slow and cautious.

The two detectives' eyes widened as Shawn's phone vibrated. Hesitantly, Shawn pulled the phone from his pocket and checked the new message.

On his phone screen was a picture of Burton Guster and John Watson tied in back to back chairs and gagged. Below the picture was one sentence.

_Here's the grand prize if you win the game. _

**A/N: Will Shawn and Sherlock succeed without John and Gus to keep them in line?**

**Here's a quote to think about while you're waiting to find out: **

**From Batman: Arkham City:**

**"****So how do you keep a secret from the World's Greatest Detective? Well, do you know? You stick it right up under him. Right up under his long pointy nose, and wait."**

**Read and Review**


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